Second Chance at the Sugar Shack

by Candis Terry

  “Kate?”

  Sensibility returned with the gruff tone in his deep voice. “Right. I’m on it.” She picked up the smaller roller and dabbed it in the pink paint, sponging off the excess. On the wall she raised and lowered the tool in neat straight lines. From the radio Carrie Underwood sang about love being all that mattered, and a companionable silence drifted between her and the man she’d cared for enough to give him her virginity. The man who’d planned to ask her to marry him. Even if she was interested, she’d missed the boat. She wasn’t on his list. His stupid, ridiculous Kate-excluding list.

  “So, no hot dates tonight?” she asked, stroking the paint on another aged section of wall while he worked toward a corner in the opposite direction.

  The only response she received was the sound of the paint sloshing onto the ceiling.

  “How’s that list thing working for you?” she prodded.

  He didn’t even bother to shoot her a dirty look.

  “I guess I have to give you credit.” She shook her head, turned back toward the wall and lifted the roller again. “I mean, you know what you want and you’re going after it. In a weird way I kind of admire that you care so much about this town that you’d be willing to—”

  “You’re doing that wrong,” he said on a warm breath that tickled her ear and sent a shiver dancing down her spine. His heat radiated against her back. His silent approach had startled her—a talent he must have picked up from chasing bad guys. She glanced at him across her shoulder as he slid his big palm over the top of her hand and guided the direction of the roller on the wall. The warmth of his touch went way down deep.

  “You make a big W,” he said as he demonstrated. “That way you don’t leave lines.”

  “Oh.”

  “You ever paint before?”

  The deep timber of his voice rumbled against her back and sent shockwaves through her heart. Her head got a little lighter as she breathed him in. “No.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “But I’m good at a lot of other things.”

  He leaned closer and whispered, “Do tell, Hollywood.”

  A tingling sensation settled low in her abdomen as his free hand slipped around her waist and drew her back against him. His erection pressed against her as his hot mouth found the sensitive curve of her neck.

  “You’ve got my full attention,” he said against her skin.

  Yeah, no kidding. “Hey, don’t forget I’m not on your list.” She tried to duck away. “You don’t want me.”

  He caught her and turned her in his arms. He lifted his hands to cup her face and looked down into her eyes. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Kate. Whatever this is between us, I can’t deny it anymore.” He lowered his head and captured her mouth with his own.

  His lips lightly brushed over hers and he kissed her with such tenderness it stripped her soul bare. His firm, determined mouth coaxed and teased. Her knees dissolved. Her heart thundered in her ears.

  She meant to do as he’d asked that night in her dress shop. To push him away. Instead when his tongue slipped inside her mouth—wet, hot, and hungry—she welcomed him in. Her tongue met his while dizzying pleasure whipped through her body. The paint roller dropped from her grasp. She lifted her hands to his strong, solid shoulders and clung to him as he consumed the last of her resistance.

  While his mouth worshipped her, crazy mad desire hummed through her veins. His long fingers plunged into her hair and he tilted her head for a better angle in which to devour her. A moan stuck in her throat, then broke free as the kiss ignited an electrical charge in her body. When he wrapped his arms around her and brought her firmly against him, she plunged into the passion thumping in her chest, burning across her skin, and pooling between her thighs.

  She tangled her fingers in the silky hair at his nape and her nipples rose to hard points against his solid chest. His big hands slid down her spine, then slipped beneath the edge of her sweater. Her skin tingled when his calloused fingers caressed the small of her bare back, then dipped lower to pull her tight against the long hard bulge straining against his zipper.

  His fingers slipped up her side and cupped her just beneath her breast. As his thumb brushed across her nipple in a lazy motion, she leaned into him.

  “This probably isn’t a good idea,” she whispered.

  “There’s no probably about it,” he murmured low and sexy.

  The musky scent of his male arousal filled her head. She wanted to climb his strong, hard body, wrap her legs around him and let him sweep her away on a tide of endless passion.

  “You said you wanted me to stay away from you.”

  He kissed the side of her throat. “I lied.”

  There were a million reasons she should push him away and only one she shouldn’t.

  “Oh, what the hell.” She kicked sanity to the curb, grabbed hold of his T-shirt and tugged it over his head. When the fabric sailed to the floor and she slid her hands down his chest to his flat, muscled belly, he gave her a smile she hadn’t seen since that night ten years ago.

  Heightened awareness brightened his eyes. “My turn.” He lifted off her sweater, flicked the clasp on her bra, and tossed the contraption aside.

  Then he held her away and just looked at her. The more he looked, the more her nipples hardened, and the more desperate she became to feel the heat of him surrounding her and filling her deep inside.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, smoothing his palms down the curves of her body. “You’ve always been beautiful to me, Kate.” Then he drew her against him.

  The way he looked at her made her feel desirable. Valuable. Necessary.

  When their bare flesh met, she almost melted at the keen sensitivity of her nipples against the silky texture of the light covering of hair on his chest. She strained upward, craving more of his kiss, the warmth of his mouth. But he had other ideas.

  “Mmmmm. I love the way you smell,” he murmured. “Sweet . . . and sinful.”

  “It’s sugar and vanilla.”

  His moist tongue skated down her neck until he reached the curve of her shoulder, then he softly sucked her flesh. “Lucky for me I’ve always had a sweet tooth.”

  Lucky me. Ripples of pleasure shot straight to her core. Eyes closed, her head dropped back. She slid her fingers through his hair, needing something to hold onto while his parted lips trailed to the curve of her breast.

  His palms held her waist while he licked and suckled her nipples until they were wet, erect, and sensitive. Every delicious pull of his mouth sent a signal straight to the aching flesh between her thighs. She could feel the urgency in his touch as well as the tenderness in his restraint. He meant to love her, as only he could. As only he knew how. To claim her one more time.

  She opened her eyes. “I want to see you. To touch you,” she whispered in a husky voice she hardly recognized as her own.

  He toed off his boots, looked down at her, and smiled. “Be my guest.”

  Her fingers were shaky and eager as they unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. In one swift motion she pushed down the denim and the soft cotton of his boxer-briefs. He kicked them off and stood there, naked and gorgeous in the glaring overhead lights. For a moment she stood back, appreciating his incredibly smooth expanse of streamlined muscle and the line of silky hair that swirled his naval then traveled below to his full erection.

  She looked up. Their eyes met.

  She reached for him.

  He reached for her.

  They came together like rockets.

  What was left of her clothing came off in a hurry. He crushed her to him, slashed his mouth across hers in a blistering kiss that tasted like heaven and became a voracious feeding frenzy of lips and tongues and red hot desire.

  His hand slid into her hair. Her hand slid to his cock. It pulsed as he pushed into her grasp and the skin stretched tight. The heat and weight of it in her palm sent her heart racing. She wanted to taste him, lick him, devour him but the need to have h
im inside her was greater. “I can’t wait any longer.”

  “Me either,” he murmured against the side of her throat while his rough fingertips played with her sensitive nipples.

  She burned with desire and ached with emptiness. She needed him to fill her with pleasure and she wasn’t beyond begging. When his teeth nipped her earlobe and his warm breath brushed her cheek, her words escaped on a breathless plea. “Now. Please.”

  Impatient, she pushed him to a painter’s cloth on the floor and crawled on top of him, planting her knees astride his lean hips. The plump head of his hot erection nudged her slick opening and she moaned her pleasure.

  “Wait.” His breath was ragged as he clasped her hips and lifted her off of him.

  Desperation grabbed her by the heart. She wanted this man. Needed him more than she needed to breathe. He couldn’t stop now. Just as panic began to invade the erotic haze wrapped around her, he grabbed his jeans, produced a condom, and rolled it on.

  A huge sigh of relief pushed from her lungs. “I thought you changed your mind.”

  He grinned up at her, sliding his fingers into her moist flesh, slowly caressing her where she was hot and swollen and incredibly responsive. “Not a chance.”

  Feeling herself propelled toward orgasm with each skillful stroke, she closed her eyes and groaned. “Thank God.”

  Even as wonderful as his fingers felt, they weren’t enough to feed her hunger. She needed him. All of him. She curled her fingers around his pulsing flesh and lowered herself. The thick, hard penetration was deep, complete, and powerful.

  She braced her hands on his shoulders, pressed her mouth to his, raised her hips and withdrew. He sucked air into his lungs. His hands moved to her hips and guided her as she plunged down on him again. His uneven breath whispered across her temple as she moved up and down, increasing the rhythm. Friction built. Heat engulfed. Her heart beat in her ears as she rose and descended, as intense pleasure grabbed her and turned her inside out. She rocked against him while he whispered her name.

  Then she was on her back and his remarkable body pushed her into the floor while he thrust into her deeper and harder, pushing her faster and faster toward release. The sound of his passion filled her ears and her heart. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

  There was nothing slow or easy about the powerful sensations that rolled through her like an earthquake. Tremors rippled across her flesh and robbed her of breath. Her muscles contracted, gripping him tight inside her as wave after wave of delicious release washed over her. A deep groan rumbled in his chest. With his head thrown back like he’d given her all of him, body and soul, he thrust into her one last time.

  When his breathing slowed, he rolled to his side taking her with him. Kate relaxed with her head on his chest, his arms wrapped around her, his warmth surrounding her. His sigh of contentment nestled in her soul. The scent of their lovemaking on his skin filled her senses. The thu-thump of his heart beat beneath her ear.

  Slowly the haze of satisfaction dissipated, but the question burning in her mind would not stop. Kate shifted her head to his shoulder and looked up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Eyes closed he glided his calloused palm down her arm. “Tell you what?”

  She exhaled a nervous breath. “That you planned to ask me to marry you.”

  His body instantly stiffened. And not in a good way. “How about we not dig up old rumors?”

  “If it’s just an old rumor, what are you afraid of?”

  For a moment he laid there still as a summer night, and then he sat up. As he looked down into her face, the tips of his fingers touched her cheek. Slowly he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her once, then lingered with a second kiss that left her lips tingling and her heart bursting.

  He pulled back. “I’m not afraid of anything, Hollywood.” But even as the words left his gorgeous mouth he moved away, grabbed up his jeans, and stood. “Give me a second and I’ll take you home.”

  She sat up and watched him walk away, naked, to the restroom at the back of the shop. She pulled the painter’s cloth around her. A minute later he returned with his jeans on. Eyes shadowed and guarded, he reached for the gray T-shirt lying on the floor and pulled it over his head. “You coming?” He jammed his feet into his cowboy boots, then held his hand out to her.

  She shook her head and his hand dropped against his thigh.

  “Matt?” Her heart stuttered in her chest. “Talk to me.”

  His eyes stared into hers. “Let it go, Kate.” He grabbed his jacket, shoved his arms through the sleeves, and headed toward the back door.

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” she shouted, “I’m not the one running this time.” When the door banged shut behind him, Kate swallowed her pride, embraced regret, and reached for her sweater. “Me and my big mouth.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Days passed. Matt’s campaign posters popped up all over town. There were signs of him everywhere, but Kate had caught no sign of the actual living, breathing man since the night in the bakery.

  She’d tried to accept that all he’d really wanted from her was sex and closure. What better way for him to get that than to make her melt in his arms and then for him to walk away?

  Yeah, that theory would work great, except with that logic Kate would have felt used. She didn’t. Quite the opposite had happened and no one had been more surprised than she.

  In his arms she’d felt loved.

  Who knew?

  When he’d walked out that door, Kate had wanted to run after him. To make him stay and take her in his arms again. And why hadn’t she? If her pride had stung when he’d walked away from her that night, she couldn’t imagine how he’d felt when she’d left him ten years ago. Especially for something, at the time, she’d considered better. God, she’d been an idiot. Scratch that. No sense talking past tense.

  She stood in the middle of the bakery looking at the walls that had been completely painted that night after she’d scooped up her dignity and went home. Apparently he’d come back and finished the job he’d started. But why? And would she ever have the chance to thank him?

  She glanced at the floor where the ancient tiles had been covered with shiny new wood laminate, erasing any reminders of the night they’d shared together. Well, except for the big giant ache rambling around in her heart. For weeks she’d wondered what he wanted from her. She didn’t believe it was just sex. And it hadn’t been just the sex that made her realize what she wanted from him either.

  Matt made her feel something she hadn’t felt before—that she was exactly where she belonged. The thought both scared her and filled her with pleasure. She could do one of two things with that information . . . run or embrace it.

  A knock rapped on the front window and she opened the door for Maggie who bustled in from the cold grinning like a kid on a treasure hunt.

  “I love the awning over the door,” Maggie said, shrugging off her wool coat and dumping it on one of the new bistro chairs Kate had integrated into the new design. “Might as well give people a place to sit and visit while they sample the new menu.”

  “I’m so glad you went with a polka-dot design. It reminds me of the Dippin’ Dots ice cream we got at the hockey game in Boise last year.”

  Kate sighed. “I just hope my dad will like it.”

  “Are you kidding? He’ll love it.”

  “I don’t know.” Doubt splintered Kate’s conviction. “What if in doing this makeover, I’ve taken away his memories of my mom?”

  “Oh, honey, don’t you know you can never take away his memories?” Maggie gave her a hug. “They’re too embedded in his heart. True love is like that. And your mom and dad were definitely soul mates.”

  There was that term again. “Is that what you and Oliver are?”

  Maggie laughed. Her apple cheeks dimpled. “We didn’t start out that way. But yeah, we are. He was a cute guy who turned into a hell of a man. He takes care of us and he loves me uncondi
tionally. Even when I never lost the baby weight, he didn’t care.” She gave a little smile and sigh. “I can’t imagine my life without him.”

  The spark of utter amazement in Maggie’s voice intrigued Kate. And she had to admit, it ignited a smidge of envy, too.

  Then Maggie clapped her hands together. “Okay, let’s get moving. You reopen in a few days. So what’s on the agenda for today?”

  Kate’s wandering thoughts of soul mates and true love slipped back into her box of crazy but valuable ideas and she locked them away. “Well, I ordered arborvitae in these awesome ceramic urns for each side of the door and a planter box with Mom’s favorite mums for in front of the window. They should arrive this afternoon as should the glass apothecaries we’ll use to display highlighted pastries.”

  “So that leaves us to . . .”

  “Try out some new recipes to put on the menu.”

  “Oh God,” Maggie groaned, “If they taste anything like those ice cream cupcakes, I’m in big trouble.”

  Kate laughed and guided her friend to the prep area. “I promise you can have a free lifetime membership in the treat-of-the-month-club.”

  “Good thing Ollie doesn’t mind a little cottage cheese with these thighs.”

  Kate grabbed a stainless steel bowl and mixing spoon and slid it across the counter to her friend. Yes, men like Ollie were definitely in the few or don’t exist category. At least in Hollywood, where men spent a fortune on spas and product and expected their women to remain forever ageless via Botox and collagen. Men like her father and Maggie’s husband were different. They liked women with substance instead of perfect thighs.

  “What are we making first?” Maggie asked, doing a little dance with her bowl and spoon to the Brooks & Dunn tune on the radio.

  “New York–style cheesecake with blackberry coulis.”

  Maggie’s brows lifted. “What the heck is that?”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll love it.” Kate pulled a springform pan from the shelf, set it on the counter, and wondered if Matt Ryan would be different, too. Was he the soul mate type? Was he the kind of man who would give unconditional love even if his woman had a little extra junk in her trunk?